But some one thrust it between my legs as I was running past here." "Sho!" exclaimed another, curiously.

"Now, who would want to do that ?" "Anyone who didn't want me to pitch to-morrow's game, perhaps," flashed Dick, with sudden divination.
"What's this ?" demanded a boy, breaking in through the small crowd that was collecting.

"Dick---you hurt ?" It didn't take Dave many seconds to understand the situation.
"I'll bet I know who did it!" he muttered, vengefully.
"Who ?" spoke up one of the men.
But Dick gave a warning nudge.

"Oh, well!" muttered Dave Darrin.
"We'll settle this thing all in our own good time." "Let me have your arm, Dave," begged young Prescott.

"I want to see how well I can walk." The young pitcher had already been experimenting, cautiously, to see how much weight he could bear on his injured left leg.
"Take my arm on the other side," volunteered a sympathetic man in the crowd.
Dick was about to do so, when the lights of an auto showed as the machine came close to the curb.
"Here's a doctor," called some one.
"Which one ?" asked Dick.
"Bentley." "Good!" muttered Dave.